


Green Ink

by OctolingO



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Ranboo has a nice Enderman friend, Torture, villain quackity, yes it’s another one with that tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28739601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctolingO/pseuds/OctolingO
Summary: Quackity does not appreciate traitors, and Ranboo is in the wrong place at the wrong time.(Hello yes another SMP fic where I make Quackity hurt Ranboo I promise I can write other things)
Relationships: Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Ranboo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 615





	Green Ink

The forest was calm and quiet, full of nothing more than Piglin’s grunts and Endermen’s vwoops. Ranboo had gone through the Nether portal at L’Manburg, then traveled for what must have been an hour before coming upon the Warped Forest he was now in. Since travel to the End was not allowed, and Endermen in the Overworld were rather rare, Warped Forests were a good place to relax and speak with Endermen, and there was no water either, since the Nether had no rain. 

It had been a very long time since Ranboo had last spoken to an Enderman, almost so much so that he had trouble forming a few of the End language’s chirps and sounds. 

_ “How is End?”  _ Ranboo asked. He had technically just said ‘how End’ , but the other word was assumed. The End language was not particularly eloquent; chopped and clipped sounds were most often how it was spoken. 

_ “End is good. Who you?”  _ The Enderman responded, its purple eyes glowing wary. 

_ “Ranboo. Half human Enderman. Friend?”  _ Ranboo said hopefully. He had experienced some hurtful things when revealing his heritage to Endermen in the past. 

_ “Friend.”  _ The Enderman confirmed, handing Ranboo a rock of netherrack about the size of his fist. Ranboo took it, nodding thankfully.  _ “Danger!” _ Ranboo had no time to react to the Enderman’s warning, because something heavy hit him in the back of his head. 

When he blinked open his eyes, Ranboo immediately knew something was wrong. He was tied to a chair with ropes that seemed unnecessarily tight; he could barely feel his fingers. The room he was in was cold, hard stone, with words scribbled on the walls in a jagged and trembling script.

At first, he thought he was in the button room, but it was obvious that the words were not Wilbur’s, though he didn’t know whose they were. The words were crazed ramblings about killing traitors, mostly Technoblade, though Ranboo noticed with a chill that his name was written and slashed through as well. 

Ranboo tried to untie his hands, or his ankles (which were tied to the chair’s legs), by jostling, but all he succeeded in doing was tipping the chair over and landing on his back and having the breath knocked out of him. 

While he was wheezing on the floor, Quackity walked in, holding a short knife and a bag full of what sounded like glass bottles. Ranboo did his best to glare and hide the fear that sent a cold knife through him as Quackity leaned over and grinned at him. He pushed Ranboo’s chair back upright. 

“What are you doing?” Ranboo immediately said.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m doing what needs to be done.” Ranboo’s heart skipped a beat as Quackity took out the glass bottles, revealing that they were full of water. Not potions, just normal water. Part of him was thankful that they weren’t harmful potions or poison, but water was just as bad, if not worse. 

“Quackity, please.” Ranboo said, forcing himself to sound calm. “Please don’t.”

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say, traitor.” Quackity snarled. “I’m going to exact my revenge in whatever way I see fit.” Quackity smashed one of the bottles on Ranboo’s boots, which were regrettably not very waterproof. Ranboo ignored the burning and tingling on his feet and stared Quackity in the eyes, until it grew too uncomfortable and he had to look away. “Yeah, that’s right, you little freak.” 

The next bottle broke on Ranboo’s shoulder, splashing water on the side of his face. Ranboo bit down on his lip as three more bottles of water collided with his back. His clothes got plastered to his back with burning, horrible water. 

“You deserve this.” Quackity’s voice grew, until he was almost yelling. He threw a bottle directly onto Ranboo’s face, and the half-Enderman boy cried out, voice mingling with warped Enderman sounds. Quackity did not let up in his assault in the slightest, if anything, he grew more aggressive. The water bottles just kept coming, until Ranboo was writhing in pain and screaming sounds that were not quite Enderman, but they certainly weren’t human. 

Ranboo tried to reason with Quackity through tears that only burned him further, but the other boy was not listening. He seemed to be deriving joy from Ranboo’s pleading. 

_ “Stop!”  _ Ranboo screeched, not remembering to speak in a language Quackity would actually understand (it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference anyways).  _ “Please! Please, God, stop!” _

“Awww, are you hurt?” Quackity teased. He threw a bottle onto Ranboo’s back. “Poor little Ranboo, hurt by a little bit of water.” The attack relented for a few moments, and Ranboo sobbed, struggling to get in air as he shook with the force of his cries. 

“What the hell is going on here?!” An accented voice said, as Phil entered the room, his dark wings pressed close to him so he could actually fit. Quackity turned, his expression flashing to afraid before he quickly hid it. Ranboo raised his head a bit, just so he could see Phil’s face and confirm he wasn’t hallucinating. 

“Hello Philza Minecraft.” Quackity said. “Get out.”

“What are you doing to Ranboo?” Phil said, not moving. “Actually, I don’t care. Stop it.” Quackity behaved as if Phil wasn’t there, turning and throwing another glass bottle onto Ranboo. The half-Enderman didn’t have the energy to scream, so he whimpered and flinched. 

“Quackity, if you don’t stop right now, I will kill you.” That was a new but equally as well-known voice: Technoblade. The Piglin hybrid had his netherite sword, the oddly-named Orphan Obliterator, in one hand and a shield in the other. Now, Quackity didn’t bother to hide his look of terror. His hands started to shake. 

“Please don’t kill me—”   
“You have five seconds, Quackity.” Techno said, twirling his sword. He looked bored. Quackity ran, leaving Phil, Techno, and Ranboo in the room. Phil immediately bent down to Ranboo, untying the ropes. Ranboo slumped forward bonelessly, and Phil grabbed him. 

“Ranboo, oh God—” Phil began, but Techno was the one to interrupt him. 

“You get Ranboo to the house. I’m going to deal with Quackity.” He said darkly, and there was very little doubt as to what exactly Technoblade was going to do. Phil nodded, going through the dark and damp stone tunnel until he emerged in the tundra, a good two hours of walking away from Techno’s house. 

Ranboo wouldn’t make it two hours. Luckily, Phil had wings. 

He unfurled them, their black feathers shining in the sunlight, and took to the skies. 

When Ranboo next woke up, it was in a haze of pain. He didn’t know what was going on, or where he was, but Phil was there, leaning over him with a concerned expression and a healing potion.

_ “Phil?” _ Ranboo said in the End language. Phil looked at him, eyes wide and startled. Ranboo dimly realized that Phil had never heard him speak a language other than English before. “Phil?” He repeated, this time consciously making sure he would be understood. 

“Hey kid.” Phil said. 

“Where—”   
“You’re in Techno’s house, no need to worry.” Phil smiled, but his smile disappeared quickly. “Your burns were pretty bad, Ranboo. Even now, they’re bad. It’s a good thing Techno has so many potions, or I was scared—” he cut himself off to swallow, “I was scared you wouldn’t make it.” Ranboo realized he had something in his hand, and he turned his head—a motion that felt as if someone was rubbing sandpaper along his skin, it was not particularly comfortable—to see that he was holding a Totem of Undying. 

“Why would you give me this?” He asked, voice hoarse from screaming. 

“Because I was worried. And, once I gave it to you, you wouldn’t let go of it.” Phil laughed, falling backwards slightly. Ranboo smiled. His Enderman instincts were most often simple things, like not enjoying eye contact, but he had inherited their love of simply grabbing onto things as well. 

Wait, the netherrack the Enderman had given him! That was a gift, he shouldn’t lose it. 

Ranboo tried to reach into his pocket, only to find that he wasn’t wearing the same clothes as before. Phil must’ve put him in new, drier ones so the wet ones wouldn’t damage him further. The image made him blush, which made Phil laugh harder. 

“Where’s the netherrack?” He said after a moment. Phil handed it to him; a lump of reddish stone that fit almost perfectly into Ranboo’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” The door opened and Technoblade stepped inside. He had his sword in one hand, his shield was gone, and his other hand was clutching his head. “Hey, Techno! What happened? Did you get him?”

“Oh, I got him alright.” Techno said grimly as he sat down. There was blood on his face, from a cut that his hand was covering. He looked as if he were trembling, though Phil didn’t notice. “Trust me, he’ll be leaving us alone for a long while.” 

“Good.” Phil said, nodding. “I’m going to make dinner.” He walked from the room, and Techno immediately let out a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Everything alright?” Ranboo asked him. Techno flinched. “Sorry.”   
“Nah, it’s fine. I didn’t see you is all.” Techno waved a hand at him. “I… am I a monster, Ranboo?” 

“Of course not!” Ranboo exclaimed, then winced as his throat hurt. “Of course not, Techno.”   
“How can you be sure?”

“Is… is this about what happened with Quackity?” 

“I really messed him up, Ranboo.” Techno said, smiling slightly. Ranboo shivered. 

“Well,” he began, mustering up some courage. “I don’t think you’re a monster, whatever happened between you and Quackity.” 

“Thanks, then.” Technoblade stood up, nodding respectfully to Ranboo before walking out of the room, presumably to help Phil with cooking. Ranboo winced as he shifted on the bed, again with that sandpaper-rubbing feeling, on his ribs and arms this time. He pushed himself upright, pausing when his head swam and his vision spotted, and reached over to grab his Memory Book and a quill pen, that he noticed was using green ink. Someone must’ve given it to Techno. 

Ranboo sighed, beginning to write down what had happened—or what of it he had been coherent enough to recall, at least—in the journal. 


End file.
